The March
by Arlaxxer
Summary: The major pointed his sword forward and pulled the reins of his horse so that it would walk. We followed right behind, in an ever so prideful formation. We had marched a lot in our camp, but today, this would be serious marching; not just training. (Quick oneshot of pre-Wounded Knee Booker.).


So I was imaging teen!Booker marching to this: watch?v=68PfufToOiA

And then I wrote this while imagining and listening. Oh also; to those of you waiting for another chapter on my other fic "Innocence Lost", I'm sorry for holding out on it, but now with the summer holiday rapidly approaching, I might be able to write a lot of chapters.

* * *

"Company, present weapons!"

Major Whitside yelled at the top of his lungs from his horse. The soldiers who stood in a neat formation on the muddy ground lifted their weapons and pointed them up at the sky. Every single one stood with their chin high and proud, for they knew they were going to serve their country and return home with honour and pride on their shoulders. I would as well.

"Stand at attention!"

The camp was completely silent. The tents were empty, for we had all gathered outside and we are readying ourselves for action. Though the assignment we have been given was simple; disarm a group of Miniconjou Lakota Indians who were in possession of weapons. This was our first assignment, our company consisted of new privates who had only just recently joined the 7th and completed our training, and yet I still thought of us as the bravest group of men on this side of our planet.

I am young, I've barely reached adulthood, and yet almost every one of my comrades show me great respect and constantly give me compliments in my training. I am honored to be beside these men this day, for our first assignment. This is our chance to prove our worth to the hardened part of the cavalry, our chance to prove them wrong with all the insults they've been spitting at us. I will not yield before I have shown them who we truly are, and revealed that they are nothing more than weak snakes, using words to taunt us.

"Men, I have had the honour of training this fine group consisting of you soldiers. Never once in my life have I seen people learn so quickly. I am proud to lead you to your first assignment as a part of the seventh cavalry. May god have mercy on our souls and let us pray that nothing will harm us today."

And so he turned his horse towards the road, unsheathed his sword and extended his arm upwards so that the sword would be pointing upwards together with all the weapons we men were wielding behind him.

"Salute!"

And so we saluted, using our left hands to hold our weapons whilst we raised our outstretched right hands up temples in an honorary salute.

"Onwards, march!"

The major pointed his sword forward and pulled the reins of his horse so that it would walk. We followed right behind, in an ever so prideful formation. We had marched a lot in our camp, but today, this would be serious marching; not just training.

Cornelius Slate marched beside me, he looked at me with a grin on his face, and he could not wait either.

Last night, one sergeant called my name and asked me this question in front of all the men.

_'DeWitt, is it? Your family tree shelters a teepee or two, doesn't it, son?'_

When they heard that, almost every comrade stepped away from me and tried to avoid being just near me, as if I carried a deadly plague. Yet, I still find myself to be more than grateful to be with these men today. Even if they refuse to call me their comrade, I will still not hesitate to call them _my_ comrades. I shall prove my worth, to them and my country. I will prove that I am not just a teenage boy who fled from school to serve my homeland. I will do whatever it takes to prove that I deserve a spot between them, no matter the colour of my skin. Only Slate does not seem to care who my ancestors are.

I speak Sioux, and I am proud of my Indian ancestors, but I am more proud of being a part of the union, and serving it to my death. I would kill any Indians if it was necessary to prove my loyalty to my land.

But that does not matter now, we march to Wounded Knee Creek for our assignment, and hopefully I shall find glory there.


End file.
